


Between Time and the Abyss

by alba17



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 30dayfic, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Childhood Memories, Gen, M/M, Memories, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-07 07:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3167276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alba17/pseuds/alba17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts out as a typical mission for the Winter Soldier.<br/>The curveball fic challenge--sign up to write one fic, and each day you'll get a word or element that has to be included in that day's writing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Time

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 30dayfic challenge on tumblr. New prompt every day. We'll see what happens. No idea what rating it will end up being.
> 
> http://30dayfic.tumblr.com/

The Soldier sat in the chair, willing the sensations away. He couldn’t stop them, but he could try to lessen the effects. His head pulsed with painful jolts but as long as he focused on counting, he could get through it. It was the same every time. Ten minutes of utter hell, then it was over. All he had to was count. Sixty seconds to the minute, ten times; 600 seconds of complete misery. It felt more like ten years. It just showed that you could get used to anything.

It was predictable, at least. 

That was the key to survival. Narrowing his focus to the smallest possible increment and not thinking about anything else. Time in particular was something he didn’t have the luxury or ability to think about in larger terms. It had lost all meaning. He noticed dates and years in the most abstract way possible. He dealt in specifics only when it was relevant to his mission, otherwise he’d rather not know. Because then he’d have to deal with the conundrum of his life and what had happened to him. That way lay madness, the dark abyss on the edge of which he constantly teetered. Better to stick to the concrete. It made reality less confusing.

Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty. The pressure and pain released. The constraints were loosened and the mouth guard was taken out. He could hear the swish of clothing next to him, smell the sausages someone had eaten recently. He forced his tight muscles to relax, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to move out of the chair, they grew so stiff. His head felt light and airy without the machine clamped to it. For a moment he felt free, almost like he was falling. It made him nervous.

A face floated into his vision. Pale hair, blue eyes peering at him. “Is he ready?” the man asked someone else off to the side where the Soldier couldn't see.

“Yes, sir,” the disembodied voice said.

“Good.” Turning to the Soldier, the pale man said, “Prepare yourself to leave in half an hour. You’ve got a long flight ahead of you.”


	2. From the City to the Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Soldier follows his target.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For 30dayfic at tumblr. Day 2 prompt - water.

The sound of rushing water comes from behind the dark trees. Moss, damp, slithering, probably a few slugs underfoot. It’s cool and green. He takes a moment to inhale the scent of the forest before setting his marks on his prey again. He tracked him from the city, where the guy had rented a car, a small red Chevrolet. 

The Soldier had never been to this city before. At least, he had no memory of it and usually something tended to jog his memory if he had been in a place before. The city lay on the water, flush up against the flat, blue expanse, boats and islands in the distance barely visible through the thick, grey air. The sky was low and heavy with rain, but all that came down was a gentle drizzle. 

It was no different by the time they got to the mountains. A couple of hours drive up the main highway, chugging through traffic at first, then the cars thinned out and the mountains became more visible, green rolling hills rumpling up against pine-carpeted peaks. The Soldier needed to be careful that he wasn’t spotted. At times he pulled back and let a few more vehicles get between them, smoothly maneuvering the grey Ford Focus.

A brown and tan sign indicated the entrance to a national park. A series of switchbacks led up a steep hill and the Soldier was forced to drop way behind to avoid being spotted. It was no problem as he had to pushed the gas pedal all the way to the floor to get the Focus going. The road evened out for a bit about halfway up the mountain and the target pulled into the trailhead for Mossy View Trail. The Soldier backed up and parked in the trees away from the parking area.

It’s been awhile since he was in such a wild place. He can smell the man clearly here, an unmistakably human scent among the lush plant life, birds darting in and out of the branches overhead, the small animals scurrying in the damp underbrush dotted with wildflowers. No one else is around, which makes the Soldier’s job that much easier. 

For about five miles, he tracks the guy, the trail dimmed by serge-colored pines and a narrow river running parallel, through which glacier water races, blue and clear. From all indications, the guy knows what he’s doing, from the way he moves with silent grace, to the air of alertness in his movements. The Soldier needs to be careful.

He pads around a curve in the trail, then slows down and moves off the trail in a crouch, stopping behind a tree. The target stands still some ways down the trail, examining some kind of device in his hand. A navy blue ball cap over short, pale hair, a strong build. Continuing to look at the device, he leaves the trail and walks towards the river through the trees. 

The Soldier waits a couple of minutes then follows. He reaches the spot at which the target left the trail when he hears shouting. More than one voice. There’s a crash, the sound of wood cracking, something large splashing into water.

He runs.


	3. Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Soldier confronts the target.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 prompt: tree.

The Soldier sped through the trees, the branches so close he had to use his arms to push them away from his face. His footsteps crunched on underbrush. The sound of the river was suddenly louder as he reached the bank and the end of the woods. The trees grew right up to the edge of the water so he was able to remain hidden until he could see what had made the noise.

A huge pine tree had fallen from the opposite side of the narrow river. A wooden structure lay on its side, half broken up in the river, apparently a kind of tree house that had been built high in the branches of the fallen pine. Its roof bristled with antennae and satellite dishes - a communications facility? A fire observation tower? Unclear. 

On the other side of the tree, two men grappled in the water. They were soaked wet, slipping and sliding as they struggled, the water churning like a feeding frenzy. One of the men was his target. The ball cap was still on and his hair was dark with water from the river. His mouth grimaced as they wrestled, hands on each other’s shoulders, arms outreached and pushing until the target lost his footing and slipped. The unknown man caught the end of the target’s loose jacket and flung him into the water. His arms flailed as he went under, but only for a moment as he immediately surged up to tackle his assailant by the waist, pushing him back the other way, so he was backed up into the pine tree with its sharp branches.

He needed to get this situation under control. The Soldier pulled a pistol from his thigh holster and shot the stranger in the shoulder. The stranger grunted and crumpled into the water, his jacket snagging on a branch to hold him in place.

The target looked in the direction of the shot and noticed the Soldier. He immediately climbed quickly over the shot man and up the tree towards the wooden structure. The Soldier was already slipping down the bank. Then he clambered over the part of the tree that lay on his side of the river grabbing onto branches and looking for flat, empty spots on the trunk where he could step.The target had now reached the tree house window and had a leg up to climb in. 

Giving up on the tree, the Soldier jumped into the water, wading the last few yards to the tree house door. He could hear the target rummaging around inside. The Soldier wrenched open the door, water whooshing as he did so. The target was bent over awkwardly due to the angle at which the structure came to rest and he appeared to be scanning the area with his device. Papers floated in the foot-high water. A couple of computers piled in corners where they landed when the tree fell.

“Give it to me,” the Soldier said, gun pointed at the target.

The man straightened up as much as he could and stared at the Soldier with no expression. His face was white, the barest hint of a smirk. “I don’t have it.”

“You do.”

He shook his head. “No. You have the wrong information.”

It wasn’t possible. They were never wrong. Eyeing the electrical equipment and the water, he realized he needed to get this done and get out of here. He jerked his pistol. “Out.” The man didn’t move. “You’ll give it to me out there,” the Soldier continued. “Move. Now.”

 

He heard a rhythmic thwapping above them - a helicopter. He rushed through the water towards the target, who swiftly pocketed his device and started climbing out the window. By the time the Soldier reached him, he was standing on the windowsill trying to pull himself up onto the roof. The helicopter had reached the tree house and hovered above, a thumping din that drowned out all other sound. He grabbed the target’s legs and pulled, but at that very moment the target grabbed a ladder from the helicopter and the Soldier could feel him getting pulled out of his grasp. He watched helplessly as the target floated up.

The target waved. “So sorry we couldn’t spend more time together, moi dorogoi. Until next time. I’ll be sure to say hello to your old pal Steve Rogers for you.”

Who?


	4. Down the Hatch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The target escaped but the Soldier finds something interesting about the fallen tree. Prompt 4: Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't been able to do a chapter every day, but I'm going to really try to keep a steady pace with the prompts, otherwise I'll totally fall behind! This is an interesting experiment.

The Soldier was stunned as he watched the helicopter disappear over the tops of the trees. He rarely failed his missions and he’d failed this one spectacularly. The item he was supposed to retrieve was still with his target, winging its way somewhere. Sopping wet and still balanced precariously on the tree house, he contacted his base to see if they could track the helicopter to get a read on where it was headed. He didn’t want to lose any time. 

But what really stuck in his mind was what the target had said. First of all, he spoke Russian, which meant he knew who the Soldier was. Second, who was this person who was supposed to be his old “pal,” Steve Rogers? The name meant nothing to him. He had no friends.

Deflated from the encounter, he retreated to the woods, picking his way over the fallen pine. The stranger who’d attacked the target was still out. Hopefully HQ would soon tell him what to do next, where the helicopter might be headed. In the meantime, he could gather some intel. Curious to see what had caused the tree to fall, he climbed up the opposite bank. 

This was no natural occurrence. Where the tree trunk had split, there were scorch marks; on the surrounding ground as well. He touched the jagged, burnt wood with his metal hand and it was warm. He pondered what sort of device or weapon could slice a massive trunk in half so easily. Looking around the woods, he saw nothing out of the ordinary, other than the pine tree itself and its tree house. Could the target’s device have done this? What powers did it have? 

He heard the sound of someone thrashing through the river; the stranger had revived and was headed toward him; the tree was impeding his progress. The Soldier quickly continued his examination.

The cut wasn’t clean, as it would have been if a saw had done the damage. Instead there was a recess in the middle of the trunk, a scooped-out space. The Soldier had to look down into it to see what was at the bottom of it. Where you’d expect to see rings of wood, it was slick and black with a metallic sheen, save for a bright glowing eye at the center. He checked the exterior of the tree again; it seemed real, the bark had a natural texture and look. He felt around the inside, checking for anomalies. Halfway around, there was a small button. He pushed it. There was a whirring sound but nothing else. 

The stranger had reached the bank. “Stop it right there.” He picked up a pointy piece of branch from the tree and began to stride towards the Soldier. 

The stranger didn’t pose any threat to him, but he was in a hurry and he’d just as soon not have to take the time to dispose of him. He took out his pistol and shot into the glowing eye. It disappeared with a small exploding sound; metal hummed and a door in the bottom of the tree rolled open to reveal a slide, faintly illuminated with tiny lights embedded in its silvery surface. The Soldier climbed into the trunk and slid into the dark.


	5. Into the Depths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Soldier finds something unexpected under the fallen tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For #30dayfic Day 5 prompt: belief. Slowly but surely, I'll write these prompts! Trying not to think about it too much.

This is familiar to him, the jump into the unknown, the leap into darkness, not knowing what's to come. He's been trained for it, been through it over and over, time after time, over decades. Still, he's not ready for what he encounters under the fallen tree after sliding down the shoot in its trunk. Underground bases are common for SHIELD, for HYDRA, governments everywhere, pseudo-governments, terrorists. 

But this is different. 

The pale darkness of the slide led to an open space that was only minimally brighter. As soon as he saw the clear tubes filled with men still like statues, he heard the name in his head: 'Steve Rogers.' 

He thought he didn't know anyone named Steve Rogers. Never heard that name before. But now he's confronted with dozens of Steve Rogers, in ranks receding into distance, emblazoned with the stars and stripes, redwhiteandblue, a switch turns on in his memory. The blond hair, the muscled chest and arms tapering to sturdy, well-formed legs, everything encased in skin-tight dark blue; the silver disc he used as a weapon resting at the feet. 

This was Steve Rogers. In front of him, replicated unknown times. The Soldier knew him very well, but that was all he could remember. Not how or where or why. That part was lost in the fog and he didn't know if he wanted to retrieve it. It was almost easier if he didn't remember, less painful. He could concentrate on his mission and not be in danger of having dangerous, unwanted feelings. His mind was uncharted territory where anything might be hiding, ready to pounce.

Looking at the expansive space before him, he had a lot of feelings. This man was a soldier, someone he knew, someone with whom he had some kind of relationship, the nature of which was mired in the tangled roots of memory. The knowledge battered at the edges of his brain like the police looking for a suspect, bang bang banging on the door, wanting in. _Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers..._

He stood stock-still. On alert, but with that name on repeat in his mind, over and over. Who was he and what did he mean to the Soldier?

There was no sign of anyone but the innumerable silent Steve Rogers entombed in clear tubes like specimens. The Soldier slowly approached the closest one. His - its? - eyes were open, a clear blue. But devoid of consciousness, blank. The Soldier circled the tube, examining it. At the bottom was a silver base, slick, empty. No buttons or controls were obvious. The Soldier took a deep breath and let it out quick. He went to the next nearest column, another Steve Rogers, standing there, immobilized, waiting. For what? Why were they here? Would the Soldier’s presence waken them? 

Only questions, no answers.


	6. (Un)Familiar Territory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Complications ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 30dayfic prompt 6: Knife. 
> 
> Argh, I'm so behind! Had to do other things for awhile, but I want to catch up, which is why this is so short. Thanks to anyone who happens to be reading this.

Knives are kin. The heft in his hand, the sharpness against his thumb. threat versus safety, a tool and a weapon. Knives - he knows them intimately, in his guts and his body. Like a lover or your worst enemy.

The small lights at the base of the columns flash briefly and he wheels around, wondering what it means, when without warning he’s cut, a clear thrust from behind to the kidney. One moment he’s gaping at the strange pillars of endless Steve Rogers, the next his back is shot through with a fiery arrow of pain. He gasps and strains to see his attacker - why didn’t he sense it coming? - but there’s only an ill-defined presence, dark and looming. 

He whips out his gun and shoots. The thing disintegrates like smoke, wispy strands of black fading and looping away into the air. He twirls around to see it re-form behind him. He tries to think, to search his memory for anything like this that he’s encountered in the past, anything he might have heard of that would enable him to categorize it, figure out how to fight it, but the shock is beginning to give way to pain. His vision flickers at the edges and he falls to the ground, landing on his side, body taut, fighting against the pain. 

Behind him the attacker casts a heaviness into the atmosphere, nothing but a faint whoosh of air. The Soldier lies there panting, senses on edge, reaching out for clues that don’t come. He hears a shuffling, almost a wheezing, and then the air is clear, lighter, and he knows the attacker is gone, at least for the moment.

It’s survival now. There’s a familiarity to the struggle against his own body, his mortality. It’s a battle he’s going to win. It’s just a matter of how long it will take and what he might have to fight against in the meantime. He pulls himself over to a pillar and leans on it, grimacing at the agony in his back. Row upon row of Steve Rogers stares blankly.

The Soldier's vision clouds and a blanket of darkness descends.


	7. Company Arrives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Soldier discovers he's not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Day 7 30dayfic prompt, 'argument.'

Voices came to him through a scrim of confusion. American. Male. Two of them. He stiffened to attention but couldn’t move, pinned down by a wave of nausea and pain spreading from the middle of his back. He jerked forward, saw the rows of pillars with gruesomely blank Steve Rogers, repressed a groan and painfully got to his feet. 

About five rows away, two men moved in his direction. Burdened with weapons and armor, they were clearly soldiers, but bore no insignia or rank. Black ops, government contractors or paid muscle - it didn't really matter what they were, he needed to get out of here. From the way they moved, wary and ready, they didn't belong here any more than he did. He slid behind the pillar, knowing it wouldn't hide him for long but it was better than nothing.

"Can you believe this?" one of the soldiers said in a tense whisper. "How many are there? Where's the real Steve? Is he even here?"

"Shut up, goddamn it. You and your mouth," the other one said. He looked older, grizzled and life-hardened. 

"Jesus Christ, fuck you, Barton." 

"Not my fault if you run your mouth too much, Wilson. Told you we should've called it in before we came down here."

"We're fine. I keep telling you. These...things...are inert. Nothing's gonna happen until they bring them to life. We just see what's here and jet." He looked around. "This place gives me the creeps."

Barton grimaced. "Yeah. Any of ‘em look different to you?"

"Three hundred peas in a pod. Hold on."

"What?"

"Thought I saw something. Over there."

The Soldier stiffened and tried to make himself as small as possible.

"Watch my back," Wilson said. 

Gliding steps, soft breaths coming closer.

His mind raced. He was injured and didn't know how badly. He could shoot but what would happen if a bullet broke one of the pillars? Would they all come to life, the phalanxes of muscular heroes entombed? Could they? What were they for? Should he try to take both of them out? Was it worth the risk?

He gritted his teeth and whipped around the pillar in one very painful move, gun cocked and aimed. "Stop right there. Put down the guns.”

Looking remarkably unruffled, like they were used to this sort of thing, the two men exchanged a quick glance and slowly put their guns on the floor and raised their arms in the air. Wilson said, "Whoa, whoa. Calm down. We come in peace, as they say. Just getting the lay of the land here.”

The Soldier was sure they had more weapons but that would do for now. As they warily looked him over, he could see them taking in his injured condition, their expressions changing as they realized they probably had the upper hand even without guns at the ready. Nonetheless, he had to carry on, having committed to open confrontation.

"Just getting the lay of the land," the Soldier repeated, inching closer. The two other men minutely slid backward, almost involuntarily.

"Yeah," the older white guy said, eyes glued to the Soldier's. "What is this place?"

"You don't know?" the Soldier asked.

"No," Wilson said. "We really don't."

The Soldier couldn't help glancing around at the eerie columns of the man he felt sure was named Steve Rogers. He hadn't the faintest idea who these men were or why they were here, but his gut told him they didn't belong here any more than he did. They were telling the truth when they said they didn't what this place was. "I don't either," he admitted.

He came closer, gun aimed steadily at the men, because even if they were telling the truth, he had to be careful. "Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to tie you up and then we're going to talk."


	8. In Which Information is Shared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Soldier, Wilson and Barton have a conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For #30dayfic day 8 prompt, winter.

“Now we can talk.”

The Soldier had moved the two intruders, Wilson and Barton, to a dim spot at the side of the vast room and secured them at their wrists and ankles. Then he let himself collapse against the concrete wall. He kept the gun in his hand just in case and tried to ignore the pain in his back.

Wilson and Barton looked at each other then back at the Soldier. “Where do you want us to start?” said Wilson, who seemed to be the designated spokesman.

“For starters who are you and why are you here? What is this place?” 

In the moment of silence that followed, the Soldier could see Wilson and Barton assessing him. He knew what they were probably thinking, since he’d been in their position many times. But had any of them ever been surrounded by columns of silent soldiers, all identical copies of a real person that (apparently) the Soldier knew in real life? Seemed to him the situation was unprecedented. 

“If you don’t know what this place is, how’d you end up here?” Wilson countered.

He wasn’t going to gain anything by avoiding the truth. Maybe they could help each other out. “By chance. Pure coincidence.” As far as he knew. Maybe there was more to it than that, but that would do for now.

“How do you chance upon a secret underground bunker deep in the Northern Cascades Mountains?”

The Soldier shrugged. He wasn’t about to tell them about his mission or exactly how he got here. “Just did. That’s not important.”

“You’re wounded,” Barton observed.

The Soldier eyed him. “Yeah. That might be more relevant. It happened in here. Right before you got here.”

The two men became more alert. 

“I’ve never seen anything like it. And I’ve seen a lot. Not human. Possibly alien, not sure. It had no set form. Like a black cloud, but it felt…well, the best I can describe it is weighty. I could feel it bearing down on me, like it somehow affected the air, the atmosphere. I don’t even know how it wounded me. It has some kind of weapons capability in its form. It came and went in complete silence, without warning.”

Again he noticed Barton and Wilson exchanging looks, having a silent conversation. They definitely knew something. “It’s dangerous all right,” Barton said. “The fact that you encountered it down here means we need to get out of here ASAP. So you really don’t know what this place is?”

The Soldier shook his head. “No. Is the man on the surface one of yours?”

Barton shook his head. "What man? No, it's just us."

"I haven't seen anyone else down here, but I think he's connected with this place. I don't think he wanted me to discover it."

“Even more reason to get outa here quick,” Wilson said. “Just tell me one thing. Do you known who the guy in the spangly suit is, in the columns?”

The Soldier hesitated. The name echoed in his head, like a long-forgotten song from a by-gone age: _Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers._ Should he say the name? If he did, he might learn something. “Steve Rogers?” It came out croaky and rough, as if to voice the name out loud would make the sleeping soldiers in the columns wake.

“Interesting that you call him that,” Wilson said. “He’s got another name that pretty much everyone knows. At least most _Americans_.”

The Soldier shook his head, brow furrowed. He had no idea what Wilson was talking about. No other name came to mind. 

“Captain America ring a bell?” Barton said.

“Captain America?” the Soldier repeated. He had a brief flash of men in olive green, explosions, deep dark forests, snow-covered mountains. He didn’t know what it meant. His life had been an endless series of such scenes. There didn’t seem to be anything distinctive about this one, except the feeling behind it was different. There was a sense of security and familiarity that was utterly alien. He grasped at it, wondering what it was and why the name _Captain America_ caused it. The feeling faded away too soon and he was left more confused than ever. What did this man mean to him? “It sounds familiar. So Steve Rogers is Captain America?” Looking at the suit with its stars and red, white and blue, it made sense.

“Yep,” Wilson replied. “He’s not why you’re here?”

“No. I told you, I got here entirely by chance.”

“But you know who he is?” said Barton.

Slowly the Soldier said, “Yes. To be honest, I’m as confused as you are about that.” He looked around, making sure the dangerous black entity hadn’t reappeared. They needed to get out of here. “You never answered my questions. Who are you and why are you here?”

Wilson sighed. “I’m just gonna lay our cards on the table. We’re government agents investigating a conspiracy. We think this installation is part of something bigger. I’m Sam Wilson and he’s Clint Barton. Right now we’re just gathering information. This here guy,” he pointed a thumb at the inert Steve Rogers, “we thought was dead. In World War 2, if you can believe it. His plane went down in the Arctic. No one ever found his body.”

“We got a tip about this installation and we’d heard a rumor that someone might’ve found Captain America. We didn’t know the two were connected,” Barton added.

The Soldier swept his gaze over the ranks of sleeping Steve Rogers. “Looks like the long winter of Captain America is finally over.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, you'd think I'd use this prompt in relation to "the Winter Soldier" but it just didn't fit to where we are in the story, sadly. I kinda had to shoehorn it in. Oh well.


	9. Up and Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The three of them came to an agreement. They’d help each other get out of the underground base, share what information they could, and reassess the situation when they got somewhere safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For #30dayfic day 9 prompt, 'love.'

The three of them came to an agreement. They’d help each other get out of the underground base, share what information they could, and reassess the situation when they got somewhere safe. The Soldier sensed that Wilson and Barton were on the up and up, on enemy territory just as he was, and besides, he didn’t have much choice. He was hurt. He didn’t want to stay in this place any longer than he had to. He still hadn’t retrieved the item that was the focus of his mission. And then there was the mysterious comment about Steve Rogers from the target as he’d escaped on the helicopter - that the target would see Steve Rogers - alive? or a clone? And who exactly was Steve Rogers to the Soldier?

His injury would heal, but no telling how long it would take. For the moment, he was at a disadvantage. There were two of them, Wilson and Barton, against one. Add to that the unknown factor of the mysterious hostile that had attacked him. What was it; where did it come from and what did it want? Was it protecting the underground base or did it have some other goal? If he stuck with Wilson and Barton, he might find out. If HYDRA didn’t already know about it, they’d want him to collect as much information as possible.

He bent over to undo the ankle ties on Wilson and Barton and then helped them up. “Okay, we’re going to get out of here. You lead the way.” He gestured with his gun to get them moving. 

“What do you want to do?” Wilson asked.

“Not sure yet. What I do know is that I don’t want to encounter that hostile being again. And there could be more. You two haven’t seen anything like that, I take it?”

“No,” Barton supplied. 

“You’d know if you saw it. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“By the way, what do we call you?” Wilson asked.

The Soldier didn’t want to give them his identity. He still didn’t know who Wilson and Barton worked for or what exactly they were up to. Out of nowhere, he said, “You can call me Barnes.” He didn’t know why he picked that name. He’d never used it as an alias before, but it somehow felt like the right one for this situation.

“Barnes it is,” Wilson said. “It’s this way,” Wilson said, nodding away from the end of the room where the slide had deposited the Soldier. “How about untying our hands? If we meet up with that _thing_ , we might need ‘em.”

“Not yet.”

They made their way along the side of the room, keeping to the shadows next to the wall. The Soldier kept an eye out for unusual black shapes lunging out of nowhere. Somehow he felt that the true sign of its presence wasn’t something you could see. It was intangible and evanescent, impossible to pin down. 

The room extended quite a ways. The Soldier estimated that the underground base was quite extensive.

 

The eyes of Steve Rogers seemed to follow them. The Soldier felt a creeping sense of disquiet, like a bird rustling in the underbrush, the slightest sense of a change in the environment.

“We’re almost there,” Barton said, nodding ahead of them. There were only a couple more rows of columns, then the room ended. The Soldier didn’t see any stairs.

“Through that door there’s a ladder up,” Wilson said, as if he knew what the Soldier was thinking. 

A tingle rushed up the Soldier’s spine, setting him even more on edge. He surveyed the immediate area, but didn’t see anything. “Looks like I’ll have to untie your hands. No funny business.”

First he untied Wilson. Just as he was finishing with Barton, he felt something, like a shadow passing, or a cloud covering the sun. It was nothing more than a feeling, but it filled him with dread. “Go, now!” he prodded Barton in the back with his gun. “We need to get out of here right now.”

They both looked at him with puzzled expressions. 

“That thing, it’s here somewhere. I can feel it, the same feeling I had when it attacked me.” 

Wilson and Barton ran to the left side of the wall and flung open a door. Out of the corner of the Soldier’s eye, he saw a smudge in the air. “Quick!” Barton started up the metal ladder that lead up a tunnel, lit similarly to the slide the Soldier had descended to get here. “I’ll cover you. Just go,” he added. 

“You don’t have to convince me, I’m going,” Wilson said, beginning to follow Barton up the ladder.

As the Soldier watched, what began as a grey smudge in the air gathered weight and mass, becoming a black cloud hovering about head height, a few feet away from the door. The Soldier could feel his breath coming more quickly, sweat gathering under his armpits. He could feel blood seeping from the wound in his back and it throbbed painfully. “It’s coming,” he yelled up at them. There was a swirling motion at the core of the cloud that was getting faster. The cloud became more opaque, less cloud-like, more solid. Thin tentacles began to spin out from the core.

Wilson was far enough up so there was room for the Soldier to start climbing the ladder. He holstered his gun, turned and put his foot on the first rung. Something soft and gentle landed on the back of his neck. He flinched. Immediately he neck was wrapped in coziness, like a fuzzy, warm scarf on a cold day. Suddenly it didn’t seem so important to get out of here. He could see Wilson’s boot-clad feet just above him and Barton disappearing farther up into the passageway. He knew he should follow them and step onto the next rung, but he couldn’t move. The soft warm scarf turned into an embrace, a cashmere blanket, irresistibly comforting. 

He heard Wilson say, as if from a distance, “Barnes! You coming?”

Everything was muffled, as if snow gently fell all around him, the air full of invitation to snuggle down and rest in front of a roaring fire. The overall feeling was one of love and comfort. He’d been running so long, never able to rest except in a drug-induced false sleep, never feeling any connection to another human being, his memories of normal life patchy and incomplete. All he wanted to do was stop and rest, swaddled in this feeling of comfort. The pull was primal.

… _Bucky_ … 

…he heard a voice say, as if murmuring into his ear. A young man’s voice, familiar and yet not.

… _Bucky_ …

That voice was like the last chord of resolution in a song, everything coming together in satisfying unison. The voice melded with the sense of security and love. He imagined strong arms surrounding him, welcoming him warmly as he fell from the ladder.

His last conscious thought was… _Who’s Bucky?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish this were better, but I'm going slowly enough as it is. I was really hoping to do a prompt a day but it just isn't working out that way! It took me a little while to figure out how to use the prompt.


	10. Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Soldier floats into memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 30dayfic Day 10 prompt: chocolate. 
> 
> A third of the way through! Pretty much unedited, sorry. These are not going to be the most refined things in the world. Obviously.

As he fell, there was the feeling of utmost ease, of floating on a cloud, of giving up all responsibility. The smell of chocolate imbued everything, the scent of childhood cocoa and holiday candy. It was utterly different from the way he usually felt, the way he'd felt for as long as he could remember. He didn't know why he could do this, why he could give up control. All he knew was something allowed him to do it. One moment he'd been heading up the ladder, following Wilson and Barton and then next, he was transported into a different consciousness, a place where nothing was familiar and yet everything was. Normally he was constantly on guard, vigilant, always alert and ready for an attack. His life depended on it. At this moment, he didn't have to do that and he didn't know why, he just knew he could put it all aside. It was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds, or fresh shoots of green emerging from frozen earth in the spring, like taking a shower after a long mission. He felt clean and renewed, a butterfly emerging from a cocoon. 

The arms embraced him, carried him effortlessly downward. He couldn't remember what he'd been escaping from. He just knew he no longer had to worry.

The feeling of comfort and security allowed his mind to wander. Normally he was focussed solely on the mission, or recovering from the mission, or he was blank. Completely, horribly blank. He'd awake from the chair wrung dry like a towel. It took awhile to recover from the reset. They'd put him in a room by himself for a couple of days, give him plenty to eat and drink, but allow him no other stimulation. The room was plain and unadorned, nothing to look at that might set him off in the wrong direction or stimulate his mind in a way HYDRA didn't want. A prison, yet he almost looked forward to it after the trauma of the chair. He seemed to need these periods of sensory deprivation. Otherwise his mind started wandering down paths that made no sense, a welter of images, sounds and smells, voices, faces of people he didn't know or remember.

He didn't know how long he'd been this way. It was all he knew.

Snippets of scenes came to him. Maybe they were memories. A woman with dark hair swept up in a bun, a careworn face, handing him a mug of cocoa in a warm, cozy kitchen filled with noisy children. His mother? She smoothed his hair from his forehead, briefly cupped his face and looked at him fondly. He felt safe, loved. When was the last time he felt that? 

Then he was outside standing in a muddy road, surrounded by ragged children yelling with outstretched hands. Their faces were pinched and thin; they looked exhausted, a village of bombed out houses in the background. An emaciated black dog stood behind the kids on the periphery. The Soldier pulled chocolate bars out of his olive green pockets and the kids' eyes lit up. They surged forward, grabbing. He didn't have enough for all of them. He was happy to give it to them, but it ended in the kids fighting and snatching them away from the littlest ones. 

He saw a small girl about five years old standing apart from the others. Her hair was in dirty blond braids and she looked terribly sad. He'd been saving one back for an emergency but he decided to give it to her. He slipped it to her quietly and said, "Sshhh, don't tell. Eat it later when no one can see.”

Snow. Christmas carols. Cards strung over a fireplace. “I got a little something for you.” A foil-wrapped chocolate Santa, glinting red and gold. His arm around a tiny guy with blond hair and a bright smile that makes his day like nothing else.

The arms enclosed him in a blanket of love. He fell down, down, down. Then there was darkness.


End file.
